


Love Knows No Season

by chewysugar



Series: 2019 Advent Calendar [6]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Advent Calendar Drabble, Bisexual Henry Mills (Once Upon a Time), Boys Kissing, Christmas, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Drabble, Hormones, M/M, Mistletoe, Teen Henry Mills (Once Upon a Time), Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-17 22:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21700567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chewysugar/pseuds/chewysugar
Summary: Henry meets a handsome stranger during Storybrooke's holiday carnival.
Relationships: Henry Mills/Jack Frost
Series: 2019 Advent Calendar [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559248
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	Love Knows No Season

**Author's Note:**

> Day 6 of my 2019 Advent Calendar! This is a convoluted game I'm playing where I pick a fandom and prompt via online generator and pair it with a randomly selected song from my Christmas playlist, then unleash it upon the unsuspecting public! 
> 
> Today's fandom: Once Upon a Time  
> Today's prompt: two strangers meet and share a kiss  
> Today's song: Winter Wonderland by The Eurythmics

It looked so much like a Charlie Brown Christmas that Henry was surprised people didn’t start humming around a pathetic spruce tree. Stroybrooke’s Ice Carnival was turning out to be a more joyous occasion than anyone had anticipated—least of all his Mom. From his spot in the gazebo, he could see Regina smiling ever so softly at the sight of her citizens skating on the pond, sipping hot cocoa and building snow people. 

“Too much festivity for you?” The voice came from somewhere off to the side. Looking around, Henry spied someone he’d never noticed among the washed masses of Storybrookers before. He was a young man—possibly a handful of years older than Henry himself was. His skin was fair as a winter dawn, his eyes blue as the waters of the Arctic Ocean. He carried his whip thin frame and spruce tree height with an easy swagger that put Henry in mind of a prince with a tragic past. But the most striking thing of all was his thick hair, white as snow and falling into those bright blue eyes. 

All in all, he was such a sight that Henry couldn’t help the immediate interest that rose in his chest. 

“Would it be too Grinchy of me to say yes?”

The boy laughed—a sound like sun glinting off hoarfrost. He climbed the last remainder of steps, and Henry saw just how tall he truly was. He’d gone through what he sincerely hoped was the last of his many growth spurts, so having to tilt his chin to look into this mystery guy’s eyes was quite noticeable. 

“I don’t think you have it in you to be a Grinch, a Scrooge or a Krampus.” 

“That’s a nice thing of a stranger to say.” 

His lips curled into a smile both cocky and sad. “I don’t have to be a stranger anymore.” 

Had three-quarters of Henry’s being not be dominated by hormones, and he’d have likely seen the folly in the electricity that crackled in the frosty air. But he couldn’t help it. There was something so captivating about this newcomer. 

“I’m Henry.”

“Glad to know you Henry. Call me Jack.” 

Henry laughed. “As in Frost?”

“Actually, yes.” 

So he spoke in riddles. That only made him all the more enticing. “Are you one for the holidays, Jack Frost?” 

Jack nodded. “Oh yeah. Intimately acquainted with them, as a matter of fact.” 

“All of them? Even Arbor Day?” 

“From Easter right down to Bank Holiday. And that last one is a lot more kindhearted than most people would believe.” 

As Henry was fond of imagination, even at an age when all he wanted to do was be left alone and skateboard around the Town Hall, this sort of talk was appealing. Unconscious of it, he shuffled a little closer to where Jack stood. 

“And what is Bank Holiday like?” 

“Kind of like Queen Elizabeth with a sense of humor.” He spoke so candidly that Henry could well believe he spoke the truth. It was possibly just an act—and he ought to have known better given all the lectures regarding stranger danger. But the pure adolescent in him could have cared less. Let him be called into the unforgiving snow and cold by the song of the wendigo—at least he’d get to experience something with this beguiling, beautiful boy. 

Jack glanced sidelong at him, then quickly went back to watching the snowball fight between Killian, Henry’s grandpa, Lancelot and Emma. 

“They like tradition,” he said. “Holidays, I mean. A bit fussy that way, but—y’know—what can you do? It’s kind of nice to have something to rely on, even if it is just for a little while out of the year.” 

“Tell me about it,” Henry sighed. His life had been a rolling ocean of chaos so long, to have at least the rules and ritual of holidays to count on was comforting.

“Take this.” Jack gestured at the carnival. “The trees, the lights, the songs...it’s this incredible mashing or Eastern European, Mediterranean, Celtic and Middle Eastern all thrown into one.” 

So he was intelligent as well as inventive. Where has he been hiding? Was he a recent extrication from The Enchanted Forest? Or was Henry making him up out of desperate loneliness? Whatever the case, he didn’t much care. 

“I bet Santa Claus just loves that,” Henry said.

A smile worked its way over Jack’s lips. Like the rest of his skin, they were oddly pale. Strange, given the blue sweater and long pants Jack was wearing. 

“Oh, he does,” Jack said softly. “He likes the rules more than you’d think.” Once again he glanced Henry’s way; then his eyes slid upwards to the roof of the gazebo. 

Following the track, Henry looked up. Pale blue and white lights had been wound over the beams and trestles. And there, nestled along the wires and miniature bulbs over his head was a cluster of green leaves and white berries. 

Henry’s face went red as a Christmas ribbon. He stared at Jack, into those cool blue eyes still brimming with emotion and life. 

“You know the myth?” Jack whispered. “How Loki convinced his brother to kill the most beautiful of all the Norse gods?” 

Henry nodded. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his mother confer with his Mom. They’d seen him and Jack, and the alarms had likely run. Well to hell with what they wanted for him and what they thought was best. He trusted Jack; and what was more, he wanted this. And judging from the way Jack stepped closer towards him, the feeling was mutual.

“Kissing,” Jack went on, his breath spiraling before them both, “is a Greek thing, though. Mistletoe was used at weddings because of what it meant to them...”

“F-fertility.” Henry hated the way his voice cracked. 

Jack chuckled, and regarded him with interest. His gloved hands cupped each side of Henry’s face. “How old are you?” 

“Seventeen.” 

“Well,” Jack said with a smirk, “thank goodness for that, then.” Then he was kissing Henry, his lips cold and refreshing as the breeze of midwinter. Henry gasped, his lips parting. Jack took that as invitation, and the warmth of his tongue swiped across Henry’s. He tasted like wild mint and ice; yet the coolness didn’t put Henry off in the least. He wanted to peel his jacket and sweater off—god, they were too stifling anyway—and let himself be pulled down to whatever frozen place this mysterious boy would take him to. One gloved hand curled around Jack’s sweater; the other pressed against the lean strength of his chest, feeling his heart thrumming...

More, Henry thought. Please, more...

But then Jack broke away. Red stained his cheeks, vibrant and stark against the handsome paleness of his skin. He stared at Henry, panting, eyes shining. 

Then someone called Henry’s name—Regina, commanding and stern. Henry felt something prickle against his palm. He’d never done magic before, but at that moment he wanted nothing more than to hurl a ball of fire at the interrupting, overprotective harridan. 

“That’s my exit cue,” Jack said, taking a step back. 

“No!” Henry made to grab for him, but Jack was already out of reach. 

He gave Henry another one of those tragic smiles. 

“Don’t worry, Henry. You’ll see me again. I’ll be creeping at your window the next frosty night.” Then he took to the snow, and ran for the tree line, leaving Henry devastated, yearning...but oddly hopeful. 

**Author's Note:**

> This turned out slightly more interesting than I thought it would be. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! Please drop a kudo, comment or bookmark if you fancy.


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